


Do we have to wait?

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Series: Fixing what never should have been broken [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And John helps him with that, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Foreplay, Gets sad and emotional towards the end, I'm Sorry, Kissing, M/M, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson's Wedding, Sherlock needs to relax, Short One Shot, Wedding Jitters, before the wedding, unexpected angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: Another fix-it for series 3 of Sherlock. This one is based on the second episode with the difference that Mary doesn't exist and it is Sherlock and John who are getting married.I have always loved the scene where Sherlock was making napkin origami shapes and decided to run with it for fun. I hope you enjoy it.Sherlock is stressed out with planning with wedding and John is looking for a way to make him relax, even if it means breaking their no sex the week before the wedding promise...Edit:so this ended up being sadder and more emotional than I expected when I first started writing about it. I apparently enjoy causing emotional trauma in my characters. Sorry guys.





	Do we have to wait?

From the moment I walked through the front door of 221B Baker Street I could tell Sherlock was feeling nervous about the wedding that is now only three days away. Even now, with the event itself so close, I can hardly believe it is actually going to happen and I am firmly going to marry the man I love. At first when I see the sea of white swans and delicate fans all I do is stand and watch, listening to the Youtube tutorial my Fiance is listening to so intently. He always gets like this when he's nervous; he focuses on one thing and won't stop until he had perfected it. It is a habit that can frequently become annoying. Then again a bored Sherlock Holmes isn't the easiest to live with either. I have had hardly anything to do with plans for the wedding. Sherlock took it upon himself to do everything and so far has seemed perfectly happy. Apparently, judging by the mess on our living room carpet, the stress is starting to get to him. 

"Sherlock, what on earth are you doing?" I ask him once I have grown tired of watching. Maybe now he'll step back slightly and allow me to help him. I'm a pretty good planner when given the chance. 

Sherlock continues folding his latest swan and places it carefully to one side to join the rest of his rapidly growing avian army. He then picks up another napkin and busies himself in folding what appears to be a fan. I let out a small, irritated sigh and am about to say something when he finally starts to speak. "I'm trying to decide which design will go better with our theme." He says, a frown of concentration on his face. Eventually he blinks and reaches out to pause the video so he can turn and give me a small smile. "At the moment I think the swan is the best candidate. What do you think, John?" 

He asks this entirely seriously and though I try to keep a straight face I find myself laughing. Sherlock's face falls a little at this. "Sorry, it's just with the amount of swans you've made you could start up a model wildfowl and wetlands trust." I intend the statement as a joke but to my dismay Sherlock appears to take it as an insult and visibly bristles, instantly going on the defensive at the same time. 

"Well somebody needs to worry about such things if our wedding day is going to be perfect!" Sherlock sniffs with a definite edge to his voice. Well at least that confirms my theory about stress. If this continues he'll be unbearable by the time the actual wedding comes around. I need to nip this in the bud before it gets any worse. I know for a fact he'll refuse to leave the flat (a ridiculous amount of parcels have arrived in the past week and there's no way he'll let me take him anywhere) and this doesn't leave me with many options. Sherlock and I both agreed to leave sex and all forms of intimacy to our wedding night... it is a decision I have long since started to regret. 

"Honestly dear one I don't really care about everything being perfect. All I want is to joined to you as a happily married man. To know that you are mine and I am yours." Walking forward I place a hand on his shoulder and lean down to lightly kiss the top of his head. "Perfect would just be a happy side affect." 

What follows is silence, but it is the sort of silence you get between people who know each other very well and no longer have any need to voice every thought out loud. Then Sherlock's face softens and he places a hand over mine, letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry I've been so cranky lately. I've just been so worried about the wedding." He says with a sheepish smile as his gaze sweeps across the sheer amount of napkin creations scattered across the floor. "I can hardly believe it's only three days away now. It seems only five minutes ago when you first proposed to me." A glowing smile spreads across his face. 

Now that is a night I will remember for the rest of my life. The whole thing had been entirely unplanned, an offhand comment to which Sherlock had replied in the affirmative. Even now a smile spreads across my face when I think about it. Sure it hadn't been the most romantic but for our often strange relationship it had been, well perfect I suppose is the best way to describe it. Getting down on one knee wouldn't have been appropriate somehow. 

My train of thought Is broken by Sherlock letting out a loud laugh. "Oh dear, I think this might have gotten rather out of hand." He says with a lightness in his voice. "Perhaps you could help me clean up." 

Lifting Sherlock's hand to my mouth I place a soft kiss on the closed fingers, somehow managing to suppress my laughter. It is at times like these I remember just how much I love Sherlock, despite the several bumps in the road we had to get here. The biggest one being me almost getting engaged to a woman. I mean, really, could you have seen that happening? Luckily Sherlock had turned up in time to show me that nothing had changed, our partnership still stood if I wanted to step back into it. I'm thankful he did because I don't think I've ever felt happier. 

Sherlock looks faintly ridiculous surrounded as he is on all sides by origami swans but it is at times like these that I love him all the more. "Maybe just a little out of hand dear one. I mean there has to be easily a hundred or so of these things." I pick up a swan and examine it closely for a moment. "Surely there's better things you could be doing with your time?" I say with just such a thing in mind. I wonder if Sherlock will be able to pick up on what I mean. His powers of observation have dulled a little in relation to me. It's like he is consciously giving me some degree of privacy. Which, I have to admit, I do appreciate. I often found his uncanny intuitions a little unsettling. 

Sherlock leans forward and closes the lid of the laptop, crushing several swans before one knee as he does so. He glances down at them with a thoughtful expression on his face before he looks me directly in the eye. Judging by the desire in his blue eyes he knows exactly what I was trying to get out. A smile spreads across his face. "What happened to waiting for our wedding night?" He asks, swallowing hard and letting go of my hand. 

I know that expression. Right this moment he is desperately trying not to show what he is really feeling. It's going all that well however because by now I can read him as easily as he can analyse a crime scene. Slowly I kneel before him and rest my hands on either side of his face. In response I hear Sherlock breathe in sharply, his pulse noticeably racing as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks. I feel a grin spread across my face. "It's still two days away and I don't know if I want to wait that long." I tell him. 

Reaching out I run the fingers of one hand down Sherlock's cheek and lightly stroke the side of his neck. A shiver runs through him and I lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sherlock lets out a quiet moan when I pull away and his arms circle around my neck, holding me in place and preventing me from moving too far away from him. "Come on." I murmur. "It was never an official promise we made." Sure at the time we had had good intentions but now after a week with no touching and no sex... we were mad to ever attempt it. 

Sherlock lets out a deep chuckle and buries his head against my shoulder. "Two more days aren't going to kill you." He says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I swear that's all you think about any more." He pauses and swallows hard, removing his arms from around my shoulders so he can move backwards away from me. "I wanted our wedding night to be..." 

I don't give him a chance to finish. Leaning forward I crush my lips against his, needing him to understand the intensity of my feelings at that moment. At first Sherlock doesn't move and I'm afraid I might have pushed him too far. But then he relaxes and returns my kiss with equal intensity. A quiet, almost inaudible moan escapes me and I feel Sherlock's lips quirk up in a smile. You know, I think I might have finally gotten through to him. Quickly and deftly I undo the buttons of Sherlock's shirt and slip it off his shoulders, running my hands along once smooth skin that is now decorated with scars. I break off the kiss long enough to gaze into his deep blue eyes for a moment and see the desire shining in their depths. "So I guess this means you don't want to wait?" I tease, resting my forehead against Sherlock's even as my body screams at me to take this further. 

Sherlock wordlessly shakes his head and lightly nips the side of my neck. An electric thrill courses through my body in response, followed by a wave of warmth. I bite my lip against another moan and lightly run the tips of my fingers along the scars covering Sherlock's back. Most are them are almost healed now, though some of them still glow a vivid red around the edges. At least they no longer seem to be causing him pain. If they were I would have insisted we waited until the wedding night to give him a few more days to heal. Luckily though we don't have to wait that long. 

Grinning I slowly slid my hands downwards, feeling Sherlock shudder in response. But before I can really do anything there comes a sound that makes me let out a groan of frustration- because of course something had to happen to spoil our fun. The footsteps echoing up the stairs grow closer and, grumbling beneath my breath, I reluctantly put a respectable distance between me and Sherlock. After all, god only knows who our visitor could be. Sherlock makes a face and crosses his arms, clearly also unimpressed to be disturbed. I meanwhile take a deep breath to calm myself before turning to greet our visitor. 

"Greg! This is an unexpected surprise. What are you doing here?" I ask, wondering what on earth he could be staring at so intently. 

At first Greg doesn't reply and after a few seconds I notice he is staring at Sherlock's bare back- and the scars that up to this moment have been hidden from him. As I watch the colour drains from his face and he rests a hand on the door frame as though to steady himself. "Sherlock," he says in a small, shocked sounding voice, "what happened to you?" 

Sherlock hangs his head, unable or unwilling to meet Greg's eye. Damn, I can't believe I forgot he didn't know- that we never told him what happened.... actually, now I come to think about it, I don't myself know how he got those scars. At the time I discovered them I was busy comforting a crying Sherlock and afterwards I never found the right time to ask where they actually came from. Now I can not believe I allowed such an oversight to happen. Feeling a little shaken I reach out to grip Sherlock's shoulder and am horrified to find him shaking. Suddenly I find myself afraid to ask in fear that something terrible happened to him. It also pains me to know the man I love is hurting and I have no idea what to do about it. 

Sherlock lets out a heavy sigh and reaches up to lightly grasp my hand. When he begins to talk his voice is little more than a murmur and I have to strain to hear him clearly. "It happened while I was trying to dismantle the rest of Moriarty's network. I thought I was being clever- infiltrating the East Wind without them knowing I was there." He stops and for a moment I'm not sure if he going to continue. All of a sudden he looks tired with dark shadows beneath his eyes. Like the weight of the world is resting on his thin shoulders. 

Finally he runs a hand through his messy black hair and starts to talk again. Though I originally intend to put a comforting arm around Sherlock's shoulder, I end up listening to him in shocked silence. My heart grows heavier the more I hear. No wonder he's been acting so strangely since his return. Once he's finished a suffocating silence settles over the room, broken only when Sherlock lets out a quiet sob and buries his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I know I should have told you earlier." 

I exchange a look with Greg and am grateful to see he looks as lost as I feel. If I had known about any of this I never would have dragged Sherlock on that case involving the bomb in the underground carriage. Instead, as any respectable doctor would have done, I would have confined him to bed rest until his wounds, both physical and emotional, were fully healed. 

"You know, for a genius, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes." I tell him, my voice soft as I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly. I swear from now on I am never letting him out of my sight again. Every time he goes off on his own something terrible always seems to happen. I honestly don't think I can take it anymore. "You should have told me Sherlock, I could have helped you." I tell him, lightly running my hand through his hair. A shudder runs through Sherlock and I hug him a little tighter in response. "Do you want one of us to call Mycroft?" 

An expression of deep sorrow settles over Greg's face. I know exactly how he feels. I also regret the anger I felt towards the detective when I think about how much he must have suffered at the hands of the East Wind. If the organisation wasn't gone I was personally destroy them myself for what they did to Sherlock. 

Sherlock lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "Mycroft already knows, he knew about all this from the beginning. He was actually the one who eventually rescued me." Before I can ask what he means by 'eventually' Sherlock gives us the answer, taking a deep breath beforehand as though he needs to prepare himself. "My brother, being the person that he is, used my imprisonment and subsequent torture as a chance to observe how extreme pain affects the brain." His voice trails away to nothing as his sobs grow stronger. 

I gape at Sherlock, barely able to believe what I'm hearing. How can this even be possible? I know Mycroft can be an egotistical prat at times but to do this to his own brother... No. Sherlock must be mistaken. Greg apparently feels the same because he also doesn't say anything and simply stares at Sherlock in shock. 

"What do we do?" I ask, looking Greg directly in the eye. "There's no way we can let Mycroft get away with this." There must be something can do, something that will make the horror fade a little. A wave of sadness rises up and threatens to engulf me but I push it to one side and force myself to concentrate on the immediate problem. "Sherlock?" I say a little hesitantly. When there is no reply I let out a sigh and rest my head against his. "Greg, what do you want to do?" 

The expression on Greg's face is one of fury and for a moment I can't help but pity Mycroft and what he is going to be faced with. The sympathy quickly wears off however because Sherlock is hurting and somebody needs to be responsible. If that person has to be Mycroft then so be it. "I'll bring him in for questioning and see what he has to say for himself. Hopefully this is nothing but a misunderstanding." 

"And if it's not?" I watch him carefully, noticing how pale he has become. Greg really isn't looking forward to this. "What will you do?" 

Greg apparently doesn't know how to answer this because all he does is shake his head. Then, without so much as a goodbye, he turns and leaves to go and do whatever it is he has planned. I'll have to text him to ask the outcome later if I remember. For now though, once again, I need to focus on Sherlock. God knows if he'll ever be the same after all this. I hope so because it would be tragic if Moriarty managed to win after all, managed to beat us from beyond the grave. 

Sherlock lets out a sound of distress and my heart goes out to him. "It'll be ok, I promise. It's our wedding in two days. Surely that gives you something to look forward to... unless you want to call it off of course." I say softly, his body warm against mine. 

Sherlock sniffs loudly and raises his head so he can look me in the eye. "No, I don't want to call it off. I want to be joined with you for the rest of my life." His voice breaks and he swallows hard, burying his head into my chest again. "Promise you'll never leave me, no matter what happens." 

Ok. I won't pretend that I'm not a little freaked out by this. I had sort of thought this was obvious when I agreed to marry him. Still I suppose it won't hurt to actually say it out loud if Sherlock needs to hear it. "I'll never leave you Sherlock so long as we're both still breathing. I love you." My voice drops to a murmur as a cold shiver runs down my spine. I don't know why but I have a horrible feeling something is going to go wrong. I try to shake it off only to find the thought is hard to get rid of. I hug Sherlock a little tighter, telling myself that it's only nerves and everything is going to be fine. If only I'd known those words would later come back to haunt me... 

The end 


End file.
